Christmas with the family
Growing up, I remember Christmas being a big deal.
Actually, I remember all the holidays being a big deal. Christmas, Easter, 4th of July, birthdays... whatever. They were excuses to get the whole family together. Granted, most of the time that was just everyone on the Lubnewski side of the family. My mother's side was the bigger side and had more local relatives. They're also the Catholic side (hence the big deal Christmas and Easter stuff).
Christmas was, by far, the biggest production. It would alternate between my grandmother's place and my aunt's (great-aunt? Grandma's sister) place. The Lubnewskies and Skalskies (and their families) from Pennsylvania would make the trip up, all the cousins and even some friends of the family would come by. The food went on for miles, especially the desserts. Every sort of cookie and cake, fudge (both peanut butter and chocolate), Jello layers in six colors... it was a diabetic's nightmare. But it was oh-so-tasty.
Of all the kids/cousins, I'm the second oldest. But there were always a bunch that were within a few years of me, scattered among the four years between my sister and me. Because of this, the mounds of sweets were challenged by the mounds of presents.
On years when the big Christmas Eve party was at my Aunt's place, my family and my uncle Joe (mother's brother) would retire back to my grandmother's place--with it's silver metal Christmas tree and (until recently) stuck in the 70's orange shag carpet in the living room--to relax a little and then tear into our presents. On the years when my grandmother hosted, we'd just out last all the other relatives.
It was all pretty good. I have a lot of good memories of those younger years and the holiday festivities. There was a lot of joy in the room, people were lively and excited and just short of Norman Rockwell in celebration.
Then, something changed. I know part of it was me. By the time I was teenager, there had been some marriages and a new batch of kids were there. Little kids. Loud little kids. Some behaved better than others. Those "others" could be little terrors. And I started to get sick on Christmas. For a few years in a row I went through it all in a bit of a fog. Stuffed up and head pounding, not at all in the mood for trampling packs of children.
But I know it wasn't just me. Everyone got older. The big parties began to become a chore. Especially with the new, extra-large group (and the extra-hyper young'uns). But it was tradition. It was expected. And so it went on.
By the time I was 18, my uncle Joe had died of cancer. He'd be followed a few years later by one of the PA clan. My uncle (great uncle?) Tony had died a few years before Uncle Joe--at one of the big summer family get-togethers... that particular barbecue stopped happening eventually. There were some divorces and some cousins who moved away or didn't make the trip up to NY any more. They had families of their own to celebrate the holidays with. A good deal of the joy drained out of the party after my uncle died. The reduction in the number of people made it all the more obvious.
During my 20's, the local cousins kept showing up. The youngest of the wild ones grew up and were much less of a hassle. The PA relatives sporadically made the trip north, depending on weather and whatnot. The piles of presents reduced in size accordingly. New dietary requirements decreased the number (but not the richness) of the desserts. I started to notice the same conversations being held every year (actually, at every family event). They were safe conversations, ones that wouldn't spark up the arguments that divided that hunk of the family during the rest of the year. (There's actually two different spellings of the Lubnewski name because of one of those fights from many years ago.)
Now, on my 30th Christmas with the family, I look around and I see almost none of the joy and excitement that I remember from days gone by. This year only one of the cousins showed up. The only kid is my niece (she's almost 4 now). And even a bunch of the local relatives went elsewhere for Christmas this year.
We still go through the motions, there's still good food (though much less of it) and good desserts (fewer, but way too many for what people actually eat now). There was even a mound of presents back at my grandmother's place, sitting in front of the same small, silver metal tree on the cream colored "normal" carpet that replaced the orange shag a few years back. Most of them were for my niece, as is to be expected.
The thing I notice most is how much everyone has aged. Everyone is tired. Not just near the end of the night, but right from the beginning. The same old jokes are told, the same conversations are held, the same cigarettes are smoked--but it's all done through force of habit.
The magic is gone.
I can only hope that my niece looks back in 25 years or so and remembers it differently than I do. I can only hope that I'm getting a little bitter and jaded and missing the magic that's still there.
But I don't think that's the case.
mmm... bittersweet Christmas memories. And the family wonders why I don't go to visit more often...
Actually, I remember all the holidays being a big deal. Christmas, Easter, 4th of July, birthdays... whatever. They were excuses to get the whole family together. Granted, most of the time that was just everyone on the Lubnewski side of the family. My mother's side was the bigger side and had more local relatives. They're also the Catholic side (hence the big deal Christmas and Easter stuff).
Christmas was, by far, the biggest production. It would alternate between my grandmother's place and my aunt's (great-aunt? Grandma's sister) place. The Lubnewskies and Skalskies (and their families) from Pennsylvania would make the trip up, all the cousins and even some friends of the family would come by. The food went on for miles, especially the desserts. Every sort of cookie and cake, fudge (both peanut butter and chocolate), Jello layers in six colors... it was a diabetic's nightmare. But it was oh-so-tasty.
Of all the kids/cousins, I'm the second oldest. But there were always a bunch that were within a few years of me, scattered among the four years between my sister and me. Because of this, the mounds of sweets were challenged by the mounds of presents.
On years when the big Christmas Eve party was at my Aunt's place, my family and my uncle Joe (mother's brother) would retire back to my grandmother's place--with it's silver metal Christmas tree and (until recently) stuck in the 70's orange shag carpet in the living room--to relax a little and then tear into our presents. On the years when my grandmother hosted, we'd just out last all the other relatives.
It was all pretty good. I have a lot of good memories of those younger years and the holiday festivities. There was a lot of joy in the room, people were lively and excited and just short of Norman Rockwell in celebration.
Then, something changed. I know part of it was me. By the time I was teenager, there had been some marriages and a new batch of kids were there. Little kids. Loud little kids. Some behaved better than others. Those "others" could be little terrors. And I started to get sick on Christmas. For a few years in a row I went through it all in a bit of a fog. Stuffed up and head pounding, not at all in the mood for trampling packs of children.
But I know it wasn't just me. Everyone got older. The big parties began to become a chore. Especially with the new, extra-large group (and the extra-hyper young'uns). But it was tradition. It was expected. And so it went on.
By the time I was 18, my uncle Joe had died of cancer. He'd be followed a few years later by one of the PA clan. My uncle (great uncle?) Tony had died a few years before Uncle Joe--at one of the big summer family get-togethers... that particular barbecue stopped happening eventually. There were some divorces and some cousins who moved away or didn't make the trip up to NY any more. They had families of their own to celebrate the holidays with. A good deal of the joy drained out of the party after my uncle died. The reduction in the number of people made it all the more obvious.
During my 20's, the local cousins kept showing up. The youngest of the wild ones grew up and were much less of a hassle. The PA relatives sporadically made the trip north, depending on weather and whatnot. The piles of presents reduced in size accordingly. New dietary requirements decreased the number (but not the richness) of the desserts. I started to notice the same conversations being held every year (actually, at every family event). They were safe conversations, ones that wouldn't spark up the arguments that divided that hunk of the family during the rest of the year. (There's actually two different spellings of the Lubnewski name because of one of those fights from many years ago.)
Now, on my 30th Christmas with the family, I look around and I see almost none of the joy and excitement that I remember from days gone by. This year only one of the cousins showed up. The only kid is my niece (she's almost 4 now). And even a bunch of the local relatives went elsewhere for Christmas this year.
We still go through the motions, there's still good food (though much less of it) and good desserts (fewer, but way too many for what people actually eat now). There was even a mound of presents back at my grandmother's place, sitting in front of the same small, silver metal tree on the cream colored "normal" carpet that replaced the orange shag a few years back. Most of them were for my niece, as is to be expected.
The thing I notice most is how much everyone has aged. Everyone is tired. Not just near the end of the night, but right from the beginning. The same old jokes are told, the same conversations are held, the same cigarettes are smoked--but it's all done through force of habit.
The magic is gone.
I can only hope that my niece looks back in 25 years or so and remembers it differently than I do. I can only hope that I'm getting a little bitter and jaded and missing the magic that's still there.
But I don't think that's the case.
mmm... bittersweet Christmas memories. And the family wonders why I don't go to visit more often...